Snafeliz stood by the Legion, but did not partake in their celebratory shouts of victory. She did however make her way for the castle, stopping short of the line of men and women waiting for the bridges to be redrawn. Her brow furrowed when the cries of the men and women surrounding her went unanswered. Not only that, but she noticed that she was drawing some stares and she looked down at herself. She had been sliced up everywhere that she could see, her clothes in pieces and she grimaced. What was left, along with her fur was covered in blood, both matted and still fresh. She had body bits and pieces covering her and she became aware that her mouth and jaw were slick with blood and thicker things. 

She stared unblinkingly at a few soldiers who were eyeing her off until they backed down, and then her attention turned to the legate who had pushed his way to the front. She saw the arrow strike home in a woman’s head with a thunk and her attention turned towards the castle. She saw them clearly in the dark, an advantage she had over those that surrounded her. She saw the rounded shapes in their hands but couldn’t fathom what they were until they were being flung in the air. She watched the heads rise and fall towards them and she grimaced. Obviously there was no choice about the matter now, she’d have to pack up what was left, if there was anything left and leave. She would not be getting many clients here for a very long time.

She sidled up between the Legate and the body of the woman that had been standing next to him. She listened to the offer and smirked. Even if the Legate were to surrender, she was so out of here. She waited for a few moments to see what the legate would say in response. Upon hearing the exchange, she grinned and pulled out several of the daggers that she’d picked up from the Argonians she’d either killed or come across on her way here. She perched the tip of the dagger between her thumb and forefinger and threw it hard enough to lodge in an opponent’s chest, the hilt quivering slightly as the man fell to his knees. She doubted many of the men and women on this side would have seen what she had done in the dark. But she watched as the man collapsed to his knees, then fell over completely. 

As she watched however, the man on the other side gave the order for the arrows to be released. She watched the arrows as they fell from the sky, dodging a couple here and there. She pulled out another two daggers and threw them, missing one of the men as they moved to the side instinctively, but the other sank deeply into a woman’s forehead. She’d just thrown the second dagger when she heard the whistling of an arrow coming for her and moved too slowly. As the arrow sank home in her thigh, she realized her reflexes were slowing down from the blood loss and wounds she had already sustained. 

Even so, she stayed where she was and removed the arrow. She used her own knife to help jiggle out the arrow head, eventually giving up and yanked the arrow out. Blood gushed from the wound and she ripped off a piece of shirt and wrapped it tightly around the opening, staunching the flow a small amount. She stood up and stumbled slightly, bumping into Won’t-Back-Down hard enough that she moved him back a step or two, both of them narrowly avoiding the arrow that had been descended where Won’t-Back-Down had been standing. She stood up straight, head still swimming, but she muttered, “Arrow was meant for that one. Watch out for the next arrow meant for that one’s head or heart.” With that she pulled another looted dagger out and threw it, her hand shaking just enough that the dagger missed the heart, only plunging between the ribs